


Wisdom, Sight and Courage

by Tanaqui



Category: Power of Three - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:19:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanaqui/pseuds/Tanaqui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set thirty years after the events of the book. Gair, Gerald and Hafny must combine their talents when they learn of a new threat to the Moor from the outside world. Written as a Yuletide treat for sarren.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wisdom, Sight and Courage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren/gifts).



> Thanks to Scribbler for the beta.

Gair frowned as he watched Gerald hurry along the track towards the entrance to Garholt. Gerald's expression was gloomier than normal and Gair's Gift was telling him it probably had something to do with the rectangles of paper Gerald had tucked under one arm. Gair had never quite overcome his suspicion of the Giants' constant need to put Words on paper. He felt it gave the Words too much power. Right now, the sense of uneasiness crawling towards him with Gerald's approach—from the papers—wasn't strong but it was growing.

"Sorry I'm late," Gerald puffed as he shook hands with Gair. "Is Hafny here?"

Gair nodded, indicating Gerald should enter Garholt ahead of him. "He's inside, catching up with Ayna."

A few minutes later, the three of them—Gair, Gerald and Hafny—were settled around an eating square. The usual platter of honey-cakes and jug of ale they shared at these regular conclaves remained untouched. Even though Hafny didn't have Gair's Gift, he'd been able to tell straight away that something was very wrong. After thirty years of friendship, they knew each other well. 

Gair nodded at the papers that Gerald now held on his lap. "Something's happened?"

Gerald nodded glumly. "They want to build on the Moor. The Giants in London, I mean."

"They've said that before," Hafny pointed out. The last time had been six years ago, just before Hafny had become King. "You said no."

"This time's different." Gerald opened the file. "They want to create a New Town on the old aerodrome, and they want to take some of the Moor as well." He unfolded a large sheet of paper and spread it out across the eating square. 

Leaning forward, Gair saw the paper was covered with lots of marks: little rectangles in different colours, straight blue lines and wiggly ones, and long ovals formed of tiny strokes stacked next to each other. 

Gerald pointed to some of the marks. "This is where the aerodrome is now, and this is Garholt, Islaw...." He indicated two of the ovals.

"And the little squares?" Hafny asked, his golden eyes narrowing.

"Houses," Gerald explained. "Shops and schools and doctors' surgeries and that kind of thing as well, but mostly houses. Nearly ten thousand of them."

Gair was relieved to see that the houses didn't stretch as far as Garholt, though they covered some of the ovals that, now he understood how the map worked, must mark mounds occupied by the Dorig. Otmound, too, but no one had lived in Otmound for thirty years. "You can say no, though? Like last time? Refuse to sell."

"I'm not so sure I can." Gerald rubbed his temples with his fingertips; his hair was starting to turn grey, Gair noticed. "There's something called a Compulsory Purchase Order. It might mean I have to sell."

"But can they build Giants' houses here?" Hafny was still studying the map. "Won't it be too wet?"

"They're going to drain it." Gerald let out a sigh. "Remember all those men wandering about last year, with fluorescent jackets and theodolites?" Gair remembered it well: the Giants had got in the way of several hunts, scaring off the game. Gerald went on, "They were surveying the Moor to see if they could pump out the water and channel it away. I didn't think they'd be able to do it, but—." He gestured at the map. "They seem to think they've come up with a water management system that'll work."

Gair let out a harsh laugh. "So in thirty years, we've gone from being in danger of having our home flooded to it being dried out like... like wringing out a wet fleece?"

"Isn't there anywhere else the Giants can put their houses?" Hafny asked. Gair could see sympathy on his face: though his own halls were no longer crowded with refugees, and many of them had even been able to return to the Halls of the Kings after Mr Claybury's plans to pump out the water for the Giants had begun to take effect, he knew all too well what it was like for families to have no homes.

Gerald shook his head. "You don't know what the world's like out there now."

That was true: neither Gair nor Hafny had been beyond the boundaries of the Moor except once, twenty years ago, when Gerald had driven them a few miles in his car to the nearest town. Both Gair and Hafny had stared, horrified, from the windows: at the Giant buildings and the Giant cars—some several times the size of Gerald's; he'd said they were called buses and lorries—and the many, many Giants hurrying around. Gair had no desire to get out of the car and explore further, and even Hafny's curiosity seemed to have deserted him for once. The journey back had been very quiet.

Gerald was still talking, explaining what it was like. "There's roads everywhere and houses everywhere. There's a whole new big bypass ten miles that way." He flapped a hand to show where he meant. "And houses all along each side of it, and a big supermarket, and offices and industrial estates. There's no room any more. People just want to gobble up the whole countryside."

"And now they want to gobble up the Moor...." Even Hafny's mercurial temperament seemed sunk under the weight of Gerald's news. 

Gair was staring at the map, at the grid of blue lines criss-crossing the moor. An idea was forming in his head. He turned to Hafny. "Your people are still pumping water out of your halls, aren't you?"

"Yes, but—"

Gair didn't let him finish. "And that was the water you used to flood Otmound, wasn't it?"

Hafny nodded.

Gair spread his hands out over the map. "How quickly could you move the water around if you needed to? Get it to a particular place." He gestured from one side of the map to the other.

Hafny's eyes were starting to gleam. "Once we've built the pipes, quick as you like."

"Wait." Gerald scrubbed a hand across his head. "You're saying that as soon as my people try to pump out the water, your people are going to pump it back in?"

Gair smirked at him. "If they can't drain the marsh, they can't build, right?"

"And if it takes too much time, they'll give up...." Hafny, tracing a long white finger along the blue lines of the map, sounded distracted, as if he was already planning how to move the water around.

"If it's too expensive, yes." Gerald was leaning forward, his expression eager. "Though they'll probably do some digging—I mean, literal digging—to try and figure out why."

Hafny gave a slight shrug, his finger still moving across the map. "It won't look like Giant things."

Gair remembered Ayna using the words to stop dogs on Gerald and it working, after a fashion. "And we can use Words to confuse them...."

"And we can try and stop them from getting planning permission." Gerald was grinning now. "Brenda can help. She's on the council these days, you know. She's quite formidable."

Gair could still feel the map pulsing unhappily, but more weakly. He looked up and smiled as he saw Gerald's dark head and Hafny's fair one bent close together. It would be a hard fight against the Giants in London and their plans, but with the three of them working together, with the Powers of the Peoples of the Sun, Moon and Earth combined, there was a chance—more than a chance—to save the Moor.


End file.
